


The Paths We Tred

by ronandhermy



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-07-28 03:34:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20057350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ronandhermy/pseuds/ronandhermy
Summary: An alternative look at Season 1 if Fitz and Simmons never joined SHIELD, but had instead started their own company.





	The Paths We Tred

“So we’re dealing with alien tech.” The annoyance practically dripped off Agent May.

“Well, maybe.” Dr. Wilson piped up. He was a beanpole of a man with a mop of curls that gave the impression that he had just recently escaped from an electrical storm. “It’s not made of materials of this world, but there are distinctly human elements in the manufacturing. Problem is, I don’t know what it does.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be a genius?” Ward asked, not expecting an answer.

“There’s genius and then there’s this. Whatever this is,” Dr. Wilson replied vaguely gesturing at the object the team was currently warily gathered around. 

“So it’s something Dr. Techno hasn’t seen before,” Skye spoke up, “That doesn’t mean other people don’t know what it is.”

“The people who might --and I say might-- know what this thing does --or even what it is-- can be counted on one hand. And you’d still have fingers left over.” Dr. Wilson looked frantic, annoyed and almost resigned all at once. 

“So that leaves…” Ward trailed off, waiting for an answer.

Coulson and Wilson responded at the same time. “FitzSimmons.” 

***************************************

“So not to sound like a kidnapped civilian of a secret government agency, but hey, that’s what I am, but what exactly is a FitzSimmons?” Skye asked as the BUS flew over the Atlantic. 

“Not a what, a who,” Coulson replied while typing something into the holotable’s controls, “Two whos actually.” Two photos appeared on the briefing screen. A young man with blue eyes and curls and a young woman with her brown hair pulled back into a no nonsense ponytail. The photos looked like government headshots. “Meet Dr. Fitz and Dr. Simmons. The preeminent experts on alien technology among many, many other disciplines.” 

“Are you kidding me?” Skye couldn’t help but ask. “They look like they’re my age.”

“Younger actually,” Coulson replied. “They were both recruited by SHIELD almost a decade ago but they turned us down after a trial period at the Academy. Decided to strike out on their own and found their own company. F.S. Tech. Yes, that F.S. Tech. We’re lucky they still consult for us on a case by case basis.”

Dr. Wilson made a noise and took a drink from his coffee mug.

“Something to share with the class Wilson?” Ward asked as everyone turned to look at the scientist. 

“Have they agreed to consult on this case?” Dr. Wilson asked far too innocently.

“Not yet,” Coulson acknowledged, “but that shouldn’t be a problem.”

The other man cringed. “This is a bad idea. They’re not going to like this.”

“You sound like you know them,” Skye said.

“I do know them,” Dr. Wilson replied. When everyone just looked at him he stumbled to give an explanation, “We weren’t friends or anything. No one was really friends with those two. I mean, I was in my late 20s when I was the Academy and they were 16. Besides, it was like they were in their own little world. But I knew them. Everyone knew them or knew of them at the Academy. They were the youngest ever admitted and the smartest. They can run circles around me without even trying and I am unashamed to admit that.” 

“So why do you think they’re not going to want to consult?” Skye asked, “If they’re as smart as you say they are shouldn’t they be interested in something like this.”

“Because we didn’t ask,” Dr. Wilson pointed out.

“That’s it?” Ward asked.

“It’s rude,” Dr. Wilson attempted to explain, “And it’s presumptuous. Those two aren’t going to like a bunch of SHIELD agents landing on their lawn and demanding answers when we didn’t even attempt to make an appointment. Especially Simmons. She’ll hate it.”

“Then can’t we just ask this Fitz guy?” Sky asked.

Dr. Wilson heaved a large sign and rubbed his forehead. “No.”

“And the reason is?”

“They’re married.” 

***************************************************

They were denied an audience with Dr. Fitz and Dr. Simmons in any capacity. They were also denied an audience with any members of the board of F.S. Tech or any scientist, lab tech or even the lowliest assistant in HR. They didn’t even make it past the lobby. 

The reason? They didn’t have an appointment.

“I told you this was a bad idea,” Dr. Wilson intoned as they all gathered around the briefing table in the BUS.

Coulson just gave him a look before turning to Skye and asking, “Can you hack us in?”

“Sure, just as soon as I change my DNA,” came Skye’s sarcastic response. The others turned to her. “This isn’t a basic encryption or firewall. Their access is all tied to biometric data synced with codes matched to an individual's DNA. Which is honestly one of the coolest things I have ever come across. Ever. But it also means it’s impossible to hack.”

“Any other ideas?” Cuolson asked the group. 

There was silence and then the table began to ring. 

Coulson pushed a button and an image of two young professionals appeared on the screen. The young man and woman were a far cry from their headshots. They both wore tailored suits in matching color schemes, their hair was perfectly coiffed, and they wore power with casual ease. In short, they looked like two geniuses who ran the world and knew they were in the right. 

“Dr. Fitz, Dr. Simmons, what an unexpected surprise,” Coulson intoned.

“Agent Coulson,” Dr. Fitz began, his Scottish heritage as pronounced as his annoyance, “I see you and your crew are leaving.”

“We take it that means you won’t attempt to harass our employees anymore,” Dr. Simmons spoke up.

“There was no harassing going on,” Coulson replied pleasantly, “We were simply looking for some assistance on an interesting bit of technology.” 

“We know,” the Doctors replied.

“You know?” Coulson asked.

“Yes, we received--” Dr. Simmons began to speak when her husband appeared to spot something.

“Wilson, is that you?” Dr. Fitz spoke up, clearly attempting to find a better angle to see Dr. Wilson who appeared to be trying to sink into the woodwork. “It is you! Jemma look, it’s Weepy Wilson.”

“Now Fitz, don’t be rude,” Simmons scolded with affection “It’s Doctor Weepy Wilson. Hello Dr. Weepy.”

Wilson just heaved a sigh, “Hello Jemma. Fitz. I see you’re doing well.”

While pleasantries were exchanged between the scientists, Skye leaned over to Ward. “Is Wilson being bullied?”

“I’m sure it’s not what it looks like,” Ward replied, but he didn’t seem so sure.

“I’m assuming this isn’t a social call,” Coulson cut in as Wilson seem to wilt under the barrage of questions and comments from the young married couple.

“Correct,” Simmons replied, snapping back to attention. “We had already received a call from Dr. Weaver about that object when you so rudely tried to interrupt our monthly shareholder meeting.”

“If you had waited for us to respond, as we told Dr. Weaver to tell you, then you could have saved yourself a trip,” Fitz added.

“Not that we blame Dr. Weaver,” Simmons said.

“Of course not, she’s brilliant,” Fitz agreed.

“Why does Wilson look like he’s dying inside?” Skye asked Ward and May as Fitz and Simmons seemed to get sidetracked on a discussion about the merits of various SHIELD faculty.

They ignored her. 

“Excuse me Doctors,” Coulson interrupted, “But you said you had some information on the tech.”

The two young doctors nodded. 

“Right,” Fitz began, “we’ve come across something similar out of Mongolia. Heavy Chinese backing. However, from what we’re able to tell it’s an unstable disrupter of protons.”

“It’s main purpose seems to be the cultivation and creation of large pockets of energy. But from what we’ve seen of it the success rate has been under 50% and the costs of the materials alone are astronomical,” Simmons continued. 

“So it’s a bomb?” Coulson asked.

Both of the scientists laughed as if Coulson had just told a hilarious party joke. Wilson had his head buried in his hands and was muttering something about IQ scores. 

“Of course not,” Simmons told them, laughter still her voice.

“You SHIELD agents. Always wanting everything to be a weapon,” Fitz said, shaking his head.

“It’s an energy source,” Simmons explained. “A highly unstable and unreliable one, but an energy source nonetheless. While it can cause damage, it’s more on the cellular level of a few individuals near it as opposed to the damage of leveling a few city blocks. Right now, in the form it’s in--”

“It’s completely useless,” Fitz finished. 

There was a strange silence that fell on the BUS.

“Guys, it’s not dangerous,” Skye said, “Isn’t that a good thing?”

Wilson groaned. “Sure, just like I’m sure it’s a good thing we just ended up a wild goose chase while Ian Quinn is on the other side of the planet in possession of unstable alien materials.”

There was a pause. Then “Damn it,” Ward muttered before rushing off. May made her way to the cockpit, anger radiating from her. 

“Doctors, thank you for your assistance,” Coulson told the young people on the screen, preparing to end the communication.

“One moment Agent,” Simmons raised her hand causing Coulson to pause.

“Wilson,” Fitz began, directing his attention to the older man, “I do hope you will consider revising your paper on Thermonuclear Reactions in Closed Vacuums as They Pertain to Alien Meterlergy. Jemma and I think it shows real promise.”

“It really does. We’d be happy to look it over once you’ve been able to investigate a few more data points. As it stands, Fitz and I think your hypothesis might not be quite the thing,” Jemma tried to be tactful.

“What she’s not saying is that no respectable scientific journal would publish your conclusions at this stage.”

“Ugh, Fitz. Wilson, I’m sure you’re trying your best on your scholarship and are simply running into stress from being in the field.”

“But look over those numbers on Graph 3 and seriously consider ditching points 17 through 30.”

“Thank you,” Wilson said, as he tried to gestured for Phil to cut the connection, “but we’re losing the signal. I’ll call you later.” 

Phil cut the call and then just gave Wilson a look.

“Don’t you start,” Wilson told Phil, “Once they start going over a paper they’ll be at it for hours. Hours. And by the end of it they’ll have developed six new theories, invented three new world altering technologies, had a discussion about where to spend their next holiday and caused me to curl up in fetal position in a corner while I question all my life choices.”

“That bad huh,” Phil said, obviously amused.

Wilson just huffed off back to the lab.

**** 

Skye was on her laptop in her bunk when it pinged letting her know an email had arrived. Curious. Any communication from her old Rising Tide contacts came through encrypted channels, not email. The F.S. Tech email addresses simply added to the mystery.

She opened it feeling a bit like Alice wandering down the rabbithole.

Dear Ms. Skye,

We here at F.S. Tech were impressed by your attempts to access our systems. While your attempts may have failed to give you a backdoor to our information we would like to offer you a position in our Computer Science division. As a member of F.S. Tech you will enjoy a work environment full of comradery and intellectually challenging problems to solve. In addition to becoming a valued member of our world class company, you will be the recipient of benefits such as competitive pay, company housing, health insurance, student loan forgiveness, and a pension. 

Should you be interested in accepting our offer either respond to this email or make an appointment with our assistant Donnie Gill. 

Warmest Regards,  
Dr. Fitz and Dr. Simmons

Skye didn’t delete the email. But she didn’t respond to it either. She simply kept it. 

Just in case. 

*****

“How long do you think it’ll take for Skye to take us up on our offer?” Fitz asked as he attempted to convince a fussy two year old that peas were not poison. 

“Based on her physcological profile and what we saw today I would say a year,” Jemma replied as she finished cutting up a few fish sticks and putting a few pieces on their daughter’s tray. 

“That long?” Fitz was surprised.

“She’s a runner Fitz,” Jemma pointed out, “She’s never stayed in one place for more than two years. Honestly, it’s amazing her social development is as advanced as it is considering her adverse childhood experiences.”

“Thank you, dear,” Fitz told the small child who offered up a piece of fish to her father. When Fitz ate the small offering the girl beamed in utter delight.

“Why? How long do you think it’ll take her?” Jemma asked.

“6 months at most,” Fitz replied. “Think about it. She’s been running from rules and institutions all her life, and now she’s in the middle of a mobile SHIELD unit. She’ll be climbing the walls within a month if she isn’t already.”

“An excellent point Dr. Watson,” Jemma replied, and then turned to smile at their child who was happily mashing her fish into her peas and then eating the resulting concoction. “Isn’t Daddy clever?” 

“Merely trying to keep up Sherlock,” Fitz smiled. 

***********

In the end it didn’t take a year or even six months. It took less than three months. 

When Skye arrived in the lobby of F.S. Tech wearing a stolen jacket, a collection of fake IDs tucked in her pockets, blood spatter still in her hair, and fresh bruises on her arms it caused a minor stir but nothing more. 

She had approached the front desk and simply said, “It’s Skye. Um, I don’t have an appointment.”

“Nonsense Ms. Skye,” Patricia said, smiling with warmth and refusing to acknowledge anything strange about the new arrival’s appearance. “You have a standing appointment. If you’ll follow me, I’ll introduce you to your supervisor and we can begin orientation.”

A young man walked up behind the desk. “It’s alright Patricia, I’ll take it from here.”

“Of course Dr. Gill,” the front desk attendant agreed with another smile and happily handed over her charge.

“It’s Donnie, right?” Skye asked as she followed the younger man down a series of hallways, “Donnie Gill.”

“Yes,” the young man acknowledged, “You’ll be meeting with Dr. Fitz and Dr. Simmons shortly. They’ve been expecting you.”

“How could they have been expecting me? I just arrived,” Skye asked, her anxiety beginning to spike. 

“You’re not the first refugee from SHIELD, or HYDRA, or whatever they’re calling themselves these days, and I doubt you’ll be the last. I’m actually surprised it’s taken you this long to show up,” Donnie told her as they passed by a lab were several vaguely familiar faces watched their progression. 

“What can I say, I always was a late bloomer,” Skye attempted to joke. Donnie didn’t laugh. “Tough crowd.”

Donnie led her into a board room full of natural light and tasteful prints of scientific theories on the walls. 

“The Doctors will see you shortly,” Donnie told her before leaving her alone with her thoughts. 

She had a million questions and, as always, no answers.

When the two young, and highly successful, owners of F.S. Tech entered into the boardroom, Skye was prepared for an interrogation. She was not prepared for Simmons embracing her and the warm barrage of pleasantries that followed.

“Skye, it’s so good to see you again,” Simmons told her upon releasing her from a surprisingly strong hug.

“Terrible circumstances of course,” Fitz pointed out, “but we’re here for you. And Patty down in HR makes a crack cup of tea if you’re feeling down.”

“We thought you’d be here ages ago but better late than never.”

“It’s just terrible what happened. I suppose you had to fudge your documents what with the agency imploding. Don’t worry, we’ll get that sorted out.”

“Now Fitz, we shouldn’t focus on that. Skye’s here now. She’ll need time to adjust.”

“Uh, hi, right here,” Skye finally interrupted. She was a bit taken aback by the two doctors. They weren’t dressed in suits today, but instead wore button down shirts and comfy cardigans. They were about as intimidating as a pile of puppies. “And while I’m thrilled about how nice everyone has been, could you explain what in the hell is going on?”

“You’re here to accept the job offer, aren’t you?” Simmons asked, looking mildly perplexed.

“We’ve been waiting. Everyone in IT is very excited. You’re the closest anyone’s gotten to hacking our system and they can’t wait to chat,” Fitz told her. 

“That’s all super nice and all, but why would you keep a job opened this long?” Skye asked.

“Because it’s your job, of course,” Simmons told her.

It seemed to hit Skye all at once that they had been waiting. That the job wasn’t just a job. It was her job. As in a job just for her. 

Simmons and Fitz exchanged a look that seemed to say a thousand things all at once.

Finally Fitz spoke. “Would you like a tour? You must be hungry and the cafeteria should be serving their monster burgers right around now.”

Skye nodded, swallowed once, twice, and then managed to softly say, “Yeah, I’d like that.”

It was like being the new kid in school all over again only instead of being left stranded in the hallway by some disinterested upperclassmen, she was being escorted by the popular kids who seemed to want to be her friends. Fitz and Simmons introduced her to various people, made sure she was given an orientation packet, made sure she was fed, and even introduced her to a roommate in temporary housing until she found a more permanent place to live. After all the running she had been doing for weeks and weeks, after her life had imploded for what felt like the millionth time, she fought the urge to cry at how nice everyone was. 

No one asked her what happened. They simply accepted that she was there, and since Fitz and Simmons vouched for her that was enough for everyone else to take her on faith. 

*************************************************

After a few weeks of working and adjusting, bits and pieces of Skye’s story began to come out. She even joined a support group for displaced SHIELD agents who were still grappling with the collapse of the agency they had dedicated their lives to. She wasn’t technically an agent, or former agent, but everyone welcomed her anyway.

She told them about Ward’s betrayal and how it was like every single bad boyfriend she’d ever had all over again. About May leaving and how it brought up feelings of abandonment. About Coulson’s silence and then obsessions by turn that made her question every choice she had ever made. About Wilson getting shot. About how he was in some hospital bed in nowhere North Dakota in a coma under a false name. About how that made her feel utterly crushed with guilt because he took a bullet for her and she wasn’t used to that selfless type of care. 

Everyone had their stories. A young woman named Callie who worked in the virology unit talked about seeing her classmates murdered at the Academy. How she felt survivors guilt for hiding in a closet and sending out a distress signal instead of fighting. An older Ops agent named Travis talked about learning how apparently his entire team had turned HYDRA. A small wispy man only ever seemed to get halfway through his story about what happened at the Triskelion before breaking down into sobs. An older woman with scars on her face never said anything, but always listened. 

It wasn’t the first time Skye had been to therapy, but it was the first time it felt like it was helping. 

********

“Skye, Mom wants to see you,” Donnie told her, after popping his head into her office. She had an actual office. With her name on the door and everything. 

“Does Jemma know you call her that?” Skye asked as she got up from her desk.

“No. And she never will,” Donnie replied, leveling a cold look at the older woman.

“Noted,” Skye muttered as she followed Donnie down the hallway.

“So why does she want to see you?” Donnie finally asked.

“You mean Fitz hasn’t told you?” Skye replied, then gave a small laugh. “Jemma’s been looking into preschools and wants to go tour a few in the area. I’m going with her to stop her from scaring any of the staff.”

Donnie paused, turned to her and then gestured for her to hand over her cellphone. She did so with some mild trepidation. 

“This my number. Call me when you need to bail,” Donnie told her.

“Why would I need to bail?” Skye asked, eyebrows rising.

Donnie just gave her a look. “Trust me, you’ll need to bail.” 

During a tour of the third preschool Skye bailed. 

“How did you know?” Skye asked Donnie over the phone as she hid behind a tree to avoid Jemma’s piercing gaze.

“That Dr. Simmons took a course in intensive interrogation tactics and employs them against unsuspecting educators? You’re not the first person to be dragged along as a buffer,” Donnie told her. Skye could feel the smugness over the phone. 

“Why doesn’t Fitz go with her? Calm her down?” Skye asked, ducking behind various parked cars as she made her strategic escape.

Donnie gave a bark of laughter. “Are you serious? Fitz is ten times worse. Simmons just focuses on curriculum and social skills, Fitz goes after the staff’s records and safety violations.”

“They’re like the parents from hell. How have they not been blacklisted?” Skye caught a bus that seemed like it was vaguely going in the direction she needed. 

“Did you just ask why the CEOs and founders of F.S. Tech --one of the richest and most philanthropic companies in the entire world--haven’t been blacklisted because they’re overly involved parents?”

“Right. Dumb question. Need to stop asking those.” Skye took a breath. “So how do I avoid going on more of these school scouting missions?”

“Skye, you’ve dealt with alien tech and been shot at by people you thought were your friends, are you telling me you’re scared of a few school tours?” 

“You weren’t there Donnie,” Skye snapped, “Simmons gets intense.”

“The woman who earned two PhDs before she could legally vote? Never would have guessed.”

“Your sarcasm is not helping.”

“How about this; I’ll contact Jenkins down in your department and see if we can’t get you on some big project that will take up your time so you don’t have to listen to Mom ask about which version of the hand washing song the school uses.”

“Thanks. Did you know she has color coded charts about that?”

“Goodbye Skye.”

The phone went dead and Skye was left with the feeling of being both grateful and mildly annoyed. 

*****

The halls of F.S. Tech were covered in crepe paper and balloons jostled for space on the hallway ceilings. Everyone was acting like kids when the teacher declared it a movie day. Or, considering the people she worked with, when the teacher declared an extra credit project. The smell of pancakes wafted through the air along with general laughter.

“Hey Callie,” Skye called out, spotting a familiar face, “What’s going on?” 

“It’s the Director’s birthday,” the woman called out before getting dragged away by a young Asian woman wearing a labcoat decorated in hockey patches. 

Skye was more confused after that answer. The Director? Who was that?

Spotting a distinctly grumpy silhouette Skye made a beeline to the young scientist. 

“Donnie, who in the hell is the Director?”

The man was startled and then looked at Skye like she had just said something in Klingon. 

Getting no response she repeated the question, “The Director, who is that?”

Donnie shook his head and then said, “This should have been in your orientation packet.”

“You mean the ream of paper that makes War and Peace look like light reading? Come on, Don-Don just tell me.”

He gave her another look and then shrugged. “It’s the kid.” 

“Kid?”

“Yes, Fitz and Simmons’ child. Do you need a cup of coffee? You’re unusually slow this morning.” 

“Once again, I am shocked you don’t have a girlfriend,” Skye turned to look at the decorated hallway with a new light, “So we’re just celebrating a kid’s birthday today.”

Donnie nodded and then pointed to a pair of double doors. “Here they come.”

It was impossible not to stare. Fitz and Simmons were dressed in gaudy court dress from a few hundred years ago. The little FitzSimmons child was dressed in what was clearly an upper crust version of a pretty princess dress and was clearly enjoying being carried around by her father while her mother made overly formal introductions for the child. It was the strangest work event Skye had ever been involved in and yet everyone seemed to enjoy it. Even grumpy Klonski from accounting cracked a smile as the dressed up child waved at him. 

“Come on,” Donnie tugged on Skye’s arm, “if we hurry we’ll miss the rush before all the bacon pancakes are gone.”

Shaking her head with a smile she followed the younger man away. This place was strange and wasn’t like any company she’d ever heard of or seen, but it felt the closest she’d come to normal in a long, long time. The people expected her to be here. For a week, a month, even for years and years. People respected what she could do and didn’t seem to care about her lack of formal education, just that she could get the job done. And while the people here weren’t perfect they tried their best.

Glancing back at Fitz and Simmons showing off their delighted daughter, Skye couldn’t help a melancholic smile. What a thing to witness such love. Even if she never found her birth parents, or any other part of her history, at least she had a Mom and Dad. Two geniuses younger than her, but two people who looked after their corner of the world and all the people in it. And that included her. 

It may not be perfect, but it worked for her. And for the first time in years Skye didn’t feel the urge to run.

****


End file.
